Second Chances
by Shae-Lynn1
Summary: Postep for Blue Wall. Tracey and Chris settle some issues after a tough case that's about to get even tougher. Eventual TraceyChris, HectorKelly.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Second Chances

Author: Shae-Lynn

Rating: K+ (for now)

Date: May 2006

Pairings: Eventually Tracey/Chris, Kelly/Hector

Summary: Post-ep for "Blue Wall." Kibre and Ravell straighten out some issues after a tough case that's about to get tougher.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and am not using them for profit in any way, unless you count emotional fulfillment…

Author's Note: I'm well aware of the unorthodoxy of the pairings I've chosen, but they work for me, and one of the advantages of having only one season is that the TBJ canon is very broad with lots of room for creativity. Special thanks to Kait for being my beta.

* * *

The elevator doors slid shut behind her and she leaned against the wall, shut her eyes, and sighed. She felt old and tired. 

_Chris._

She should have known better than to trust him with this. Cops. They're all alike. She remembered hearing that from Liz Donnelly the first week on the job.

"They don't like answering to us," she'd stated flatly.

"Us? ADAs?" Tracey asked innocently.

"Women," she replied, "It'll be even worse for you, being, well, Jewish." That was Liz: painfully, acidly blunt. Tracey almost flinched. She wondered what she was getting into.

But Chris was different than all those punk Irish Catholic cops she'd dealt with as a rookie. Ravell was reasonable, open-minded, committed to the job.

Maybe too committed.

_Now Tracey_, she chided herself, _He practically apologized back there. Doesn't he deserve a second chance?_

Being unforgiving, she knew, was one of her worst failings.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open at the ground floor. Tracey walked, head held high, through the marble foyer. She just wanted to get out of there. To where?

She wasn't sure she could face the office, face pats on the back from the other ADAs, face Arthur hulking in her office door, reeking southern charm, offering his congratulatory words mixed with "I told you so-s." Arthur couldn't resist gloating.

She had won, but only by putting her friend on the stand. And Chris was her friend, despite everything, despite being her being hard on him. They respected each other. They each valued honesty.

She checked her watch – one o'clock. Well, she couldn't just throw away the rest of the day. Back at One Hogan Place, she tried to sneak in a side entrance, but Kelly ambushed her right away.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Tracey flatly.

"So how did you get Ravell to change his mind about testifying anyway?" Tracey sighed, pursed her lips.

"We had a few words."

"You mean you read him the riot act."

"Come on," Tracey rolled her eyes, "Ravell was lucky I didn't charge him with obstruction or conspiracy. He doesn't want to be here and he makes that very clear." They reached the door to her office and Tracey moved to end the conversation.

"He did the right thing in the end," Kelly offered. Tracey paused pointedly.

"Don't you have a brief to prepare on the Kettlewell case?"

"All I'm saying is that you have to work with the guy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe his problem with working here is you?"

"Excuse me!" Tracey scoffed defensively. "What are you trying to say?"

"You can be a little intimidating. You push him pretty hard."

"So we can convict murderers. I'm sorry if he has problems taking orders from a woman, but this is a little bit more important, don't you think?" She said, a definite edge in her voice. Kelly tried to make her tone more conciliatory.

"It's all over now. You won. Don't you think it's time to straighten things out?"

* * *

"Have you got the phone logs for Kettlewell's office?" asked Hector. 

"Sure." Chris began rifling through stacks of paper littering his desk. He had been out of the office more than usual working on the Tolbert case and his workload had started to catch up to him. "It's somewhere around here," he said. He backed up his chair and reached under his desk. "I think I put it under here."

"I'm not going to comment," Hector said with a wry smile. Chris got down on his hands and knees under the desk. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Chris tried to stand, hitting the back of his head against the underside of the desk.

"Damn!" he cursed. He backed out and stood up, pressing a hand to his head.

Tracey was standing in the doorway, head cocked to one side, a look of curiosity written on her face. Hector stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough. She was wearing a black V-neck shirt and slacks with a bright red wool trench coat. Against the black of her hair and shirt, she looked pale.

"Detective…" she trailed off.

"Don't ask," he stated with annoyance, but quickly composed himself.

"Can we help you?" asked Hector. Tracey hesitated.

"I was here to see you," she said to Chris, giving Hector a pointed nod. He stood up from the desk.

"I was just heading out for some water," he offered. When he was gone, Chris sat back down, rested his elbows on his desk, and leaned forward.

"So what's this all about?" he asked. He looked tired and drawn. Tracey felt a sudden concern for him. She took a deep breath.

"Chris, I think we need to get some things cleared up. Are you free for lunch tomorrow?" He looked up at her, surprised and a bit apprehensive.

"Sure."

"Twelve o'clock. Café du Soleil," she suggested. He nodded.

"Great," she smiled. She so rarely smiled without sarcasm that the transformation shocked him. It lit up her eyes and face, made him forget she was exhausted, made him forget she was his boss. "See you there." As she left the office, she passed the old mail clerk, a balding man with a beer gut, sloppy tie, and Brooklyn accent.

"Frigid bitch," murmured the mail clerk. Chris stood sharply and approached the man.

"Hey. Don't let me catch you saying anything like that again," he hissed, glancing out the door. But Tracey was farther down the hall by the elevator and didn't seem to have heard.

"Come on. Give me a break. What are you, my mother?" The clerk was short, about three inches shorter than Chris, with stubble growing on his double chin. He smiled at Chris in that smarmy way that Chris hated. Chris wanted to smack it off his face. The clerk turned to look down the hallway at Tracey. "She your old lady?"

"My boss." The clerk smiled sympathetically.

"I know the type. Morticia Addams. All she needs is a good lay," he smiled again. "I'd do her." Chris grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the wall, anger pulsing through him.

"Get out," he said, warning in his tone. He stared hard at him for a moment before letting go. The mail clerk scampered out of the office, murmuring forced apologies, almost hitting Hector, who'd returned from the water cooler. Chris sat back down at his desk and pretended to busy himself in paperwork, trying to cool down.

_Where did that come from?_ He wondered. Since when had he ever cared about the comments made about Kibre? Among the underlings in the office, he was one of her most vocal critics. He always respected her drive and commitment, but her personality was another thing altogether. And he knew she thought he was a cocky bastard. But when that jerk had said those things…

"What did Kibre want?" asked Hector, interrupting his thoughts.

"Lunch tomorrow." Hector sat back in his chair and leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

"What for?"

"She's getting ready to fire my ass," Chris surmised.

"She say that?" Hector asked, incredulous.

"No, but it's in the cards. I'm not cut out to work for the D.A."

"You're a good detective," Hector said. "I think Kibre knows that." Chris shrugged. He hoped Hector was telling the truth. He needed this job.

* * *

Please constructive reviews only. Will post more soon and rating will likely go up. 


	2. Chapter 2

He was late. The waiter, a redheaded, freckled boy of no more than seventeen approached the table with her salad.

"Are you sure your friend's coming?" asked the waiter, setting the bowl in front of her.

"He's coming," she answered shortly, "I'm not in a rush." She decided to hold off eating until Chris arrived. She looked down at her plate. Cherry tomatoes, spring greens, red pepper, purple onion, fresh raspberries, avocado, feta cheese, and chunks of fresh grilled salmon sprinkled with a balsamic vinaigrette. She smiled. Perfect.

"Something funny?" came a voice. She looked up to see Chris standing beside the table. He looked tense, even afraid. Inwardly, she sighed. She didn't want him to fear her.

"Please, have a seat." He took off his black trench coat and hung it on the chair, revealing a sky blue button-down shirt and yellow tie. He looked good, like he had dressed up. Tracey dismissed this thought quickly. _Must be my imagination._

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he sat. "Gaffney needed us to check out some financials."

"No problem." The waiter returned.

"Can I get something for you?"

"I recommend their salads," suggested Tracey.

"I don't do salad." Chris turned to the young man. "I'll have the cheeseburger with fries." The waiter left them and Chris leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively. The tension between them was palpable and Tracey was once again pained by the thought that Chris feared her.

"You're going to give yourself a coronary with a diet like that," she said, trying to sound light. He shrugged. She smiled tightly and leaned in, meeting his intense gaze.

"Look, Chris, I didn't invite you here so I could bust your chops." He relaxed slightly, but kept his arms crossed.

"So why did you invite me here? Not to increase my green vegetable intake," he said, trying to joke away the tension. Tracey sighed. She had rehearsed this discussion in her head beforehand but her carefully planned speech fell away. She didn't want to bullshit him.

"Look, Chris. It's clear you don't want to be working here. Everyone knows you spend work hours on the phone asking your old Lieutenant to take you back. Do you want to tell me why that is?" Chris didn't try to deny it but he was more sure than ever that he was about to be fired.

"Does it really matter?"

"It does if it's because of me," Tracey said quietly. Ever since Kelly had suggested her intimidation tactics might be behind Ravell's discontent, Tracey couldn't help but worry she might be right.

Chris looked surprised.

"You?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry if I did anything to make you think that. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you, you can be a bit of a hard ass, but no more than any of my former bosses." He was smiling. She raised her eyebrows and leaned back into her chair, steepling her long fingers.

"So what's the problem?" He paused. Joking was getting him nowhere so he decided to just tell the truth.

"Well, there's the reputation issue. Look at the other investigators on the team. Cops who've been injured so they can't to the job, cops who ought to be retired, and cops with jackets full of red flags. For someone in the prime of his career, you can't blame me for feeling like I took a demotion."

"The way I understand it, you took it for having a bad attitude," Tracey said matter-of-factly. Chris looked taken aback, then a bit hurt.

"Got evidence on that one, or is it just wishful thinking on your part?" he asked, on the defensive again. She smiled.

"Just a lot of rumours, innuendo, and hearsay. So what else, besides the reputation issue?"

"Well, it's harder to make alimony without all those overtime hours." She nodded.

"How long have you been divorced?" she asked, hoping he now understood that this meeting wasn't about firing or reprimanding him, but about rebuilding bridges.

"Six years. My ex and I haven't spoken except through our lawyers for five." He paused, then turned the conversation around.

"What about you? You ever been married?" Tracey shook her head and laughed as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"No. The job always came first. I always thought there'd be time later, but there were just always more murderers."

"There's time," Chris stated. She smiled wryly.

"Thanks." A moment later, the waiter returned with Chris's food. Tracey looked hard at Chris across the table. He sat relaxed back into his chair. She stared into his dark eyes before asking, "Do you think you can live with working for me?" He shrugged, finished chewing.

"Who knows?" he answered, "I might even start to like it."

When she returned to the office, Tracey felt relaxed, even light-hearted. She had just settled down into some paperwork when Kelly appeared in the doorway, carrying a file folder. She was wearing her grey sweater with the bow on the front, the one that made her look like a Catholic schoolgirl all over again. Tracey figured they must make quite a team: angel and devil, good cop and bad cop. Kelly handed her the file.

"Here's the brief for Judge Anderlee. Thought you might want to take a look before I send it over." Tracey shook her head.

"I trust your work, Kelly," she said, opening and glancing over the file nonetheless. While she perused its contents, Kelly asked, "So what did you say to Ravell anyway? I've never seen him so friendly." Tracey looked up from the folder.

"Really?"

"He was planning to watch the game on Sunday with Hector," she said as an example.

"Is that abnormal?" Tracey inquired.

"Never happened before, according to Hector, and I think he might have just asked me out on a date." Tracey's eyes widened.

"Chris? What did he say?" she demanded.

"Something along the lines of 'Kelly, I'm going out for coffee, would you like to come?' I'm not sure he meant anything by it," Kelly stated defensively, feeling like she'd said something she shouldn't have.

"Would you have wanted him to?" Tracey asked incredulously. She couldn't help but picture Chris and Kelly in a relationship. God, he'd run right over her. She'd never be able to stand up for herself. A fresh-faced idealist like Kelly didn't belong with a cynicist like Chris. Tracey knew she'd wanted Chris to feel more at home in the DA's office, but she'd never wanted him to start taking advantage of her ADAs.

Kelly shrugged, "I don't know. He seems nice enough."

"Nice?" Tracey scoffed. "Nice? Are you forgetting that he lied to us about what Tolbert told him? He's a jerk, Kelly. You deserve better than him." Kelly was a bit surprised by Tracey's reaction.

"Okay," Kelly said, "And I won't tell him you said that." She turned to leave, but Tracey stopped her.

"Wait," she said. Kelly turned. "What did you say to him?"

"That I had to give you this folder but maybe some other time, does it matter?" Kelly looked nervous. Tracey softened.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to get hurt." Kelly relaxed.

"It's okay. You're probably right."

When Kelly had left, Tracey sighed. She'd made a mistake, playing the prosecutor in her friendships again. And she knew she shouldn't have said those things about Chris, especially after her resolutions to give him a second chance.

Maybe he really will change, she thought.

"Didn't I tell you you were paranoid about being fired?" Hector said to Chris later when they were sitting at their desks.

"Yup. Tracey just wanted to…I don't know, talk about stuff...work." He didn't tell Hector about the other things they'd discussed: divorce, marriage, family, growing up. At one point in their lunch, while they were waiting for the bill, Chris had leaned across the table and asked, "Kibre. Is that a…I mean are you…?" He couldn't quite say it.

"A Red Sea pedestrian? Guilty as charged."

"My mother would love you," he laughed. Tracey smiled knowingly.

"Always pestering you to bring home a nice Jewish girl?"

"You've met her?" he joked. Then the bill came. Tracey pulled two twenties out of her wallet and left them on the table. She stood up and reached for her red coat.

"I can pay for mine," Chris offered. She shook her head and grinned.

"Business lunch."

"Well," Hector said, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're sticking around."

"Thanks," replied Chris sincerely. He looked up to see that Hector had turned to the doorway and was looking out, a puzzled look on his face. Chris followed his sight line in time to see District Attorney Arthur Branch lumbering down the hall past their office.

"What do you suppose he wants?" Chris asked. Hector shook his head.

"Don't know, but it looks like he's headed to see Kibre." Chris stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. Pulling it on, he said, "I'm going to go see if Karen Davis can pick Kettlewell out of a photo array. Want to come?" Just then, Hector's cell phone rang. He checked his caller ID, then waved Chris away.

"No. I have to take this. I'll see you when you're done, okay?" Hector's manner was distracted.

"Sure," Chris replied, but Hector had already answered his phone.

"Hola, mama."


End file.
